Firefly Island Page 20

  A mule brayed from a corral as we rolled to a stop, and Birdie’s grandpa appeared in the barn doorway. I remembered him from my first day in Moses Lake, when Pop Dorsey in the Waterbird store had suggested that I hire Len to help with construction projects in our house. I’d been mortified at the time. Now, here I was, rolling up to his farm in a pickup truck. Who would have thought?

  Today he was wearing overalls with what looked like blood smeared on the front. My skin crawled, and I gaped in complete revulsion. That really was blood, and it was wet …

  Al opened her door and stepped out. Didn’t she see the blood? I stayed where I was. The man was carrying … a knife. The knife had blood on it, too. I smiled and tried to look friendly, but I was inclined to do my visiting from inside the truck.

  In the backseat, Birdie and Nick woke up. She was already wiggling out of her seat belt when Al opened the door beside her.

  “I ubb-been ubb-butcherin’ up hogs,” I heard Len say. “I udd-don’t s-s-smell too ugg-good. S-sorry.”

  Shuddering, I pressed back against the seat, staring at the knife. Butchering hogs? My stomach lurched and I was uncharacteristically lightheaded. Behind me, Birdie wrestled with Nick’s seat belt, trying to help him out of his booster. She was telling Nick he could have a ride on the mule.

  “No. No-no.” I swiveled around to lay the Mommy-panic-hand over Nick’s buckle. “We’re not staying, sweetie. We have to go home now.”

  Nick’s bottom lip jutted out. “I wanna go see Birdie’s haw-see!”

  “I can ugg-get ’im real f-f-fast.” Len’s bushy eyebrows lifted over his gray eyes, and he motioned amiably toward the corral, the knife flashing in the sunlight. “He’s a ugg-good m-mule.” The words came with a reassuring smile, flecks of tobacco dotting his teeth.

  My head swirled like a car on the Tilt-A-Whirl, the sights and smells of the place overtaking me in a sudden assault. I saw stars. “I’m … I’m sure he is. Thank you, that’s really kind of you, but …”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’ll only take a minute.” Al flicked a look of appraisal my way, and beyond the swirl of panic, I realized this was a test, and if I didn’t step up, I would be lumped into a certain category. Who are you, really? Al’s look asked.

  Who are you, really? The question penetrated, echoed, demanded an answer. It nipped at me in ways I wasn’t prepared for, pinched in places I didn’t like. Was I really so entrenched in the world I’d been raised in, so set in my ways that I couldn’t look beyond the surface of another person and see a human being? Was I that shallow? Was I The Frontier Woman, or wasn’t I?

  I had worked in downtown DC and shopped in fish markets in Asia. Was I really afraid of a little hog butcherin’?

  Yes, actually.

  And there was Nick to consider. This place looked so … unsanitary.

  The word made me think of my mother. My mom who, as much as I loved her, wanted me to live and die within the confines of an upscale burb, preferably no farther than sixty miles from where I’d been raised. Hadn’t I spent my entire life trying to break free of that mold? Maybe I wasn’t as far from it as I thought. Everything in me wanted to stuff Nick back into the seat belt and speed away from this place, tell him he couldn’t be friends with Birdie because she wasn’t our sort.

  Something strange happened to me as I sat there in Al’s truck with Birdie, Nick, Len, and Al watching me. A barricade fell. A hard place cracked open. These were only people. People living in a different way than I did, but trying to be kind, to offer hospitality. “Sure. Sure, okay. I guess we have a minute.”

  In the backseat Birdie and Nick squealed gleefully, and outside, Len nodded at me, seeming pleased. “We’ll be uff-fast,” he said, then was off to get the mule. On the way, he stopped at a water pump near the barn, washed the blood from his hands, and deposited the knife.

  For some reason, I thought of a tapestry in the little white church where Daniel and I had married. Jesus, gathered with a crowd of listeners, some wealthy, some in rags. All sizes, all ages, all colors, all worthy of His presence, of His attention and efforts. Why should I be any different? Why were some people worthy of my attention and not others? Why was I so afraid?

  Could I change? Could today be the start of a kinder, gentler me, with my eyes and hands open to new people and new adventures?

  This was what The Frontier Woman would do. She would experience the whole thing and take pictures.

  So, I did.

  We ended up staying for more than a quick mule ride. I even climbed onto the mule and clung to the saddle, laughing while Len led me around the barnyard. Al took photos with her phone. Meanwhile, Nick also experienced the tractor, held a fluffy yellow chick in his hands, played in Birdie’s tree fort, and helped pick tomatoes in the garden where Len grew produce to sell. He ended his tour in Birdie’s bedroom, where her toys were stored in a little bookshelf next to an antique iron bed that took up most of the room. Inside, the house was small but freshly painted. The furniture was old but clean, and the tiny kitchen was stocked with home-canned goods. A game of Candy Land, in progress, had been left open on the coffee table, and Birdie’s drawings of herself were pinned to the refrigerator, as well as several of the walls—stick figures fishing, walking in the woods, picking flowers, flying a kite. The evidence of a happy home, a child who was loved.

  I left with all the reference points in my mind slowly shifting. In DC, where upscale families had everything money could buy, I’d known plenty of privileged kids who needed that kind of undivided attention but didn’t get it because their parents were busy with other things. Growing up, I’d been surrounded by families who had everything … but time for one another. Even though my mother’s level of borderline-obsessive involvement in our lives had practically driven me crazy, I’d always known that we were the lucky ones. I’d probably never told her that. Sometimes you don’t appreciate the things your parents have done for you until you’re a parent yourself. I wanted Nick to have what we’d had—what Birdie had.

  Nick … and a new baby? I laid a hand over my stomach as the truck bounced along on the road home. I pondered the possibility, then pushed it to the back of my mind. Now just wasn’t the time for a baby. Daniel and I were in such a mess here. We still had so much to learn about each other, so much to work out. I did want a baby someday, but later. Much later. We weren’t ready yet. Just yesterday, I’d lost track of the one child we already had, and at present, Daniel and I weren’t even speaking. So far, we had no resolution on the issue of work hours.

  Not exactly ideal conditions for, Guess what, honey?

  But what if …

  “You’re quiet all of a sudden.” Al’s comment broke into my thoughts.

  “Just enjoying the view, really,” I answered as we topped a small peak. Below, the river wound through hills like a thin blue thread, spilling into the lake downstream.

  “Something to see,” Al agreed, and we drove on without talking. For once, I appreciated Al’s penchant for silence. When we neared the edge of Moses Lake, she slowed before we really needed to, as if she were trying to prolong the ride. “I’ve got some time tomorrow, if you want to tackle that last closet.”

  I thought of dust, paint fumes, germs, mouse droppings … babies. “Oh, I … I can’t tomorrow. I …” I tried to come up with something other than, My sister made me promise not to, because she thinks I’m pregnant. Isn’t that ridiculous? “I want to write something up for the blog about Keren’s supper garden program. Some of my friends in DC have deep pockets, or they know people who do. I thought if I went back to the summer enrichment class tomorrow and took some pictures … I don’t know, I thought I might be able to help find some funding. If I do a good write-up on the blog, I can send out emails and point some of my parents’ friends to it, too. Quite a few of them could pop for a whole greenhouse and not even think twice about it. I know Nick’s going to wake up and want to go to the class tomorrow, too. He really liked it.”

  Al looked away,
and I sensed something. Disappointment, maybe. I wondered sometimes how Al felt about her life, if she was happy being by herself with all those animals. The few times I’d tried to ferret out details about her past, about whether she’d ever been married or had a family, I hadn’t learned much. Once, she’d mentioned that a French guy she dated in college had introduced her to polo, and for a while she’d been pretty serious about the sport. Polo didn’t seem like Al at all, but I suspected there had been a different Al at some time. I wondered how she’d ended up here, alone, living on this land that had been passed down through her family.

  “Daniel working tonight?” she asked.

  “I’m sure he is. He’s never home for dinner, unless Jack’s out of town.” Given the way Daniel and I had left things, he probably wouldn’t go out of his way to hurry back tonight, either.

  Al nodded, and surprisingly, she refrained from kibitzing about Jack. Complaints about Jack had bonded Al and me like glue. Jack was as lousy a neighbor as he was a boss. He’d actually taken legal action against Al over a fence that had been in place for forty years. Al had won the dispute. Now they liked each other even less.

  “Might as well stop off for a burger at the Waterbird, then,” she suggested.

  Nick, who’d been busy in the backseat playing with turkey feathers and fossils Len had given him, tuned in and repeated, “The Water-burb? I wanna some fwies and a candy!” Nick never missed a chance to visit the Waterbird and collect a free sucker from Pop Dorsey. He’d also become attached to the collection of old men who hung around playing dominos, drinking coffee, and talking about fishing.

  “Sure, that sounds good.” The thought of going home to another long, quiet evening on rat patrol wasn’t all that tempting, really. The vermin problem in the house was better than it used to be, but we hadn’t obliterated it yet and wouldn’t until we’d finished the last closet. We couldn’t finish the closets until I made good on the promise I’d given Trudy.

  The ancient, flickering sign on the front of Hall’s Pharmacy caught my eye. “You know what, drop me at my car, and I’ll meet you over there. I need to grab something in the pharmacy. Nick can just ride to the Waterbird with you, if that’s okay.” I held my breath, hoping Al wouldn’t suddenly remember that she needed something in the pharmacy, too. I didn’t even want Nick with me for this little purchase. He watched too many TV commercials. I could picture the two of us in the female aisle, Nick calling out, Two lines pweg-nant, one lines not!

  “Sure, no problem.” Al steered toward the curb and let me out at Hall’s. Like a spy on a clandestine mission, I waited for her to round the corner, pretending to have been drawn in by a rack of tourist magazines out front. Inside the pharmacy, I did my business as quickly as I could, thankful that Chrissy worked at the pharmacy in Gnadenfeld, not this one.

  The elderly woman behind the counter smiled at me as she picked up the test and turned it slowly over and over and over in her hands, looking for the price tag. She leaned toward the microphone for the store PA.

  “It’s thirteen ninety-five,” I blurted, then pulled out a twenty and shoved it at her. Keep the change. Really. Just put that thing in a sack. Now.

  She opened a sack, then paused and looked up as the Binding Through Books sisters came in the front door. I shifted impatiently, glancing at the box, watching it disappear slowly into the bag. The minute she slid it my way, I grabbed the sack and shoved it under my arm like a man forced to buy feminine products for a wife who’s home sick.

  “Well, hey!” Paula greeted me. I thought she gave the bag a curious look, but maybe I was just paranoid. “How about that little blurb about The Frontier Woman on the Woman’s Day Web site? That was pretty neat.”

  “Now I feel like I’ve had somebody famous in my lake house,” Alice added. “We might have to bronze your lawn chair.” She nudged Cindy, and the two of them giggled, the way sisters do when they get each other’s jokes.

  “We’ll add a little plaque.” Cindy drew an imaginary frame with her fingers. “The Frontier Woman sat here. We can sell tickets to see it—help pay for renovations on the lake house.”

  They giggled again, and I laughed with them. “I don’t think we’re quite to that point yet, but the magazine coverage did bring in a bunch of new followers on the blog. It was pretty exciting. I thought my techie friends were going to pop a cork. I’m hoping I can parlay that into some support for the supper garden program.”

  “That’s a great idea. Just remember us one of these days when you’re on Good Morning America talking about your adventures.” Alice winked. “Tell them you need three extra tickets to New York. We’ll stand out front and hold a We Love the Frontier Woman sign. We can tell everyone we knew you before you were The Frontier Woman. We loved the story about the cattle roundup, by the way. And the one about making goat’s milk soap. I never knew how the pioneers did it, or that they put yucca in the soap. That was interesting.”

  Paula nodded, jumping into the conversation. “We look forward to seeing what The Frontier Woman’s doing every morning. Now, instead of just talking about books, we talk about what you’re doing. We’re your groupies.”

  “Keep it up,” Cindy added, and for a moment their enthusiasm was a little overwhelming. I’d never imagined, the night I wrote that first story about this wild, off-the-map life of mine, that anything like this would happen. I had actual groupies. How cool.

  “I will, thanks.”

  The sisters and I parted ways, and I hurried to my vehicle in the alley. Safely inside, I tucked my package beneath the seat where Nick wouldn’t ask what it was. Throughout dinner at the Waterbird, a little visit on the dock with Nick’s favorite crew of fishermen, and then the drive home, I felt the presence of the pregnancy test. Contraband, right behind my feet. The Waterbird burger I’d nibbled on during dinner began churning in my stomach as we turned into the driveway.

  Ten minutes. In ten minutes, I could know for sure, put this fear to rest. As soon as we were in the house, I’d give Nick a quick bath, settle him in bed with his night-night book, grab my secret package from the pharmacy, and slip off by myself …

  But Daniel’s ranch vehicle was waiting by the yard fence when we drove up. The lights were on in the house. I had the momentary thought that Trudy had called him about her suspicions—that she’d ratted me out. It was silly, of course. Trudy wouldn’t do that.

  Tucking the package and my phone into my purse, I zipped it shut, my mind hurrying ahead as I wrestled with the sticky buckle over Nick’s lap. What was Daniel doing home? Was something wrong?

  Scenarios spun to life. I imagined walking in, hearing Daniel say, He fired me today, or I’ve had enough, I quit. I’m not doing this anymore.

  I imagined, This thing, us, it isn’t working out, Mal. We jumped into it too fast… .

  Stop, I told myself. Stop already. You’re being ridiculous.

  But when I opened the door, Daniel was striding across the kitchen toward it. He looked strangely wide-eyed and wild-haired, edgy and frazzled.

  “Daddy!” Nick cheered. Daniel collapsed to his knees and scooped Nick up, his arms wrapping around so that Nick’s tiny body disappeared into Daniel’s.

  “Hey, buddy.” Daniel’s voice was thin and choked. His lips pressed together, holding back some emotion. His lashes brushed his cheeks momentarily.

  “What’s wrong?” My mind conjured up more scenarios—death in the family, sudden world crisis, a call from back home. Cancer, heart attack, tragedy. Something must have happened for Daniel to be waiting for us in such a wild state, and for him to grab Nick and hang on as if the world were coming to an end. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

  “Where have you guys been?”

  “What?” I deposited my keys into my purse, heard them land against the pharmacy bag before I closed the zipper again. Most of the time lately, Daniel didn’t have a clue where Nick and I were, nor did it seem to bother him. If Nick and I had plans of our own—house projects with Al, shopping in Gnadenfeld
, or spending time down at the lakeshore with Chrissy and McKenna, it took the pressure off Daniel. He was free to be wrapped up with Jack and his work.

  Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I tried to smooth away the uneasiness. “I took Nick to the summer enrichment class in town today, then we rode with Al way up into Chinquapin Peaks to drive one of the kids home—you wouldn’t believe that place, by the way—and after that, we had supper with Al at the Waterbird and did a little fishing with the Docksiders. Why? Is everything okay? You look like … well, I don’t know … like someone just held you up at gunpoint or something.”

  Nick started to wiggle, and Daniel squeezed him into another hug before letting him shimmy down and trot away. Daniel faced me with his hands on his hips. “For heaven’s sake, Mal, I’ve been trying to call you for hours. I thought something had happened to you … or Nick.” He motioned to a phone book open on the counter. “When it got later and later in the evening, I started calling hospitals. I called Al’s house and Keren’s. She said you and Nick should have been headed home hours ago. I drove back and forth to town, looking for your car. I went down to the shore to make sure you weren’t there. I’ve been going out of my mind.” He flipped a hand toward the counter, in a motion that somehow reminded me of my mother.

  My instant reaction was to get indignant, to say something like, Well, welcome to my world. We sit here and wait for you every single day. We never know where you are. Half the time I call you, and you don’t pick up the phone… .

  His frenzied gaze met mine, and I looked into his eyes, those soft, beautiful eyes, and the fire in my belly went to mush and spawned little butterflies. “You were looking for us?” The words came in a soft coo, tremulous and tender. I set my purse on the counter, thinking that I wanted to slip into the strong, warm spot that Nick had just vacated. The oven was hot when my hand brushed it. “Why is the oven on?”

  Daniel’s shoulders stiffened again, and he threaded his arms. “I made supper for you. I’ve been trying to keep it warm all this time, but you never came.”